Your erotic stories

Lisbeth was bored. She idly went through the motions of straightening the shelves of the upscale boutique where she worked on this dreary Thursday morning. Lisbeth was twenty-four and she married less than two years ago, having come from her native Denmark as an au pair originally. The Georgetown lawyer to whom she was married treated her as a trophy wife, insisting that she escort him to his many social events, but once they got home, the middle-aged partner became icily cold to Lisbeth, precluding any carnal activities.

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The hum from the washing machines was a chorus of white noise drowning out the street sounds, the wail of sirens in the distance, the crazy-looking homeless man shouting profanities two doors up the sidewalk and the god-awful street rapper free-styling just outside the door of the 50 Cent Washeteria.

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The kayak bobbed up and down on the lake as Rhonda adjusted her life jacket, "I don't know why I have to wear this, I'm pretty buoyant." "Yea, I'd say you have a set of PF double D's" Lynn replied with a laugh. Watching her friend struggle to get her large breasts tucked into the life vest was almost comical. It was a problem she did not have.

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Art had completed his training as a masseuse and he was now working part time at a salon near the college. He was in his junior year at the university and he was doing very well in school with a cumulative 3.6 GPA. Art would graduate in a year with a degree in business and he hoped to be accepted to graduate school. Art was an impressive young man of 21 years and he had dated many girls in college.

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I could not concentrate for the life of me today. I kept thinking about this mystery weekend that my husband planning for us that started tonight. He wouldn't tell me many of the details, other to say that we were bringing the toys and sexy lingerie, and that it would be a fantasy come true for both of us.

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This spring my girlfriend and I went to Europe for a month staying in hostels everywhere we went. I'm 31 and she's 30, we're both athletic, and stylish urbanites. When we were in Prague the hostel we stayed in was an old dorm, with our own private room, however the bathrooms and showers were located at either end of the hallway.

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Entering the college library, Susan, a slim, dark-haired woman, moved quietly round the shelves to the reference section, and seeking out her usual table in the far corner, walled in on two sides, she placed her laptop on the table and removed her coat. She hung her bag and coat on the back of her chair, walked to the shelves and after selecting the books she needed, returned to the table, opening them up next to the lap top.

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My boyfriend Tom got up and left. I was still panting when he quietly slipped out of my dorm room. Sweat lined my face, clung to my breasts. The moisture felt cool on my legs. Moisture between my legs felt cold on the edges and hot in the core. I glanced at the clock, hoping it wasn't really as late as it seemed.

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I slipped into my dorm room after my calculus class. Sunlight poured through the blinds in narrow streams that set the ambient dust aglow in the air. Tiny motes of golden light curtained the room, made it hard to see. I stumbled towards my bed, tripping over clothes and shoes.

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When I stopped in at Starbucks on my lunch hour last week I had no idea what was going to happen. I was dawdling-it was a slow day at the office. No one seemed to care when I announced I was taking off half an hour early to go work out. I went through my sets quickly so there was time for coffee when I finished-not lunch, as I was determined not to let my hard-won gains get covered up by belly fat.

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